no other choices
by Roadblock Malloy
Summary: draco's other activities involving the will of his father have prevented him from staying the top student. he must take on a tutor in potions. there is only one person suitable for the job. will draco accept...will he enjoy it?
1. It's not my fault

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[A/N: I'm hoping they're not too badly out of character.  Do be sure to tell me what you think.  Feel free to email or IM.]

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**Chapter I**

**It's not my fault!**

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The darkness was making him insane.  He felt the hands running over his face and soon enough, his chest.  He saw nothing, only felt.  Then, a face touched his chest.  He recoiled at the feeling of a tongue in his navel.  The tongue then trailed down his stomach and…

"DRACO!"  Harsh anger filled his mind, it was all a dream.  Too bad dreams had to end right before they got exciting.  "Draco you rich little prick, get your ass up, we've got potions in twenty."

He looked up to find himself face to face with Pansy Parkinson.  Her smile was malicious but her eyes said something more suggestive.

"How many times do I have to tell you? LEAVE ME ALONE!!"  The girl just wouldn't give up.  It's like she couldn't get enough of being turned down.  He stood up and walked over to his trunk after he pushed her off of his clean green bed.

"Just thought you should know since you are a prefect and everything," she added, eyes traveling from the top of his white-haired head, to his silken black boxers, to his pale but somewhat muscular legs.

"Happy to see me, are you?" she eyed hid boxers, grinning.

Draco cast his eyes down at his lower half, where most of the blood that drained from his face was building up.  He grimaced and held his hands over his practically exposed midsection.

"Well, get out or I'll take points from Slytherin."

"You wouldn't dare, Draco," with that she walked out of the room, swinging her hips.

"Ugh," he muttered under his breath as he kicked open his trunk.  He extracted the most comfortable robes he had, black with a dark green collar and cuffs.  As he slid them over his head, he couldn't help but recall his dream.  It was the same one he'd been having since the start of term, and still he was "in the dark" about which girl it was.

He walked into his bathroom and began to look in the mirror.  His appearance was rather crisp and yet uptight, he had just woken up and he looked perfectly slicked back.  

"I look too stiff," he said before sniggering to himself silently.

He gazed into the mirror before closing his eyes and thinking of flying, girls, potions, girls, tormenting Potter, girls, and anything that would make him feel better.  He felt his entire head begin to tingle and he opened his eyes.  His sleek blond hair had fallen out of place and had grown just past the bottom of his ears; it also looked a little darker.  There was stubble on his face, which he was surprised to see, also the fact that his face had gotten a little color since his meditation.  

Draco swaggered out of the bathroom before looking down and seeing how ridiculous his stride looked.  He corrected it before walking over to his bed and grabbing his olive green messenger bag.  He walked out of the common room and down the hallway to the dungeon.

"Mr. Malfoy, I would think that a Prefect would be able to get to class on time!" he eyed Malfoy's tousled look disapprovingly before painfully speaking again.  "Ten points from Slytherin."

Malfoy suddenly felt like Potter.  It was unlike him to get points taken away.  He was always the one to set the example.

Speaking of Potter, his reaction was unpredicted.  He stared back at Draco with something far from malice, it was more like understanding.

The class went by slowly and laboriously.  Snape was on his case more than ever and he was wondering why.

"Malfoy," Snape said darkly under his breath as Draco began to leave the room.  "It is most unlike you to do so poorly in my class.  Whatever is going on in that adolescent head of yours, I want it to stop.  You will be assigned a tutor."

"But Sir!"

"Silence, Malfoy," he said, rather nicely compared to how he usually spoke.  Then, his face changed, it was looking sickly as he eyed the parchment on his desk.  "Granger, Hermione Granger will be your tutor.  She remains the only person in this class to keep up, except Potter and Weasley, but I daresay you won't be working with them."

"Professor!"  He interjected, loudly.  He relaxed and drawled slowly.  "I simply cannot have a tutor; it isn't the nature of a Malfoy to get…_Help."_

"You are quite correct, but I'm sorry to inform you that you won't be taking this course much longer if you continue at the rate you've been accelerating."

"I'll do anything professor, I'll do extra credit, I-," he began.

"I do not allow extra credit Malfoy, the subject is closed."

Draco walked out of the dungeon, pausing to look at the door close behind him.  He heard Snape in his office talking.

"Professor McGonagall," he said clearly.  There was a whooshing sound before Draco heard his transfiguration teacher speaking sternly.

"Yes Severus?"

"Minerva, I would like Miss Hermione Granger to tutor one of my students in Potions, that is, of course, if you agree," he said silkily. 

"She would be a good candidate," she said slowly.  "But to which student?"

"I should hardly think it right to disclose-," he said quietly.

"Oh, come on Severus, who is it?"

"I don't think its right to-," he was cut off again.

"Severus!" she said curtly.  "Who is it?"

"Draco Malfoy!" he snapped angrily.

"Oh," she sounded like she was smirking slightly when she said this.  "Everything seems in order; I shall inform Miss Granger immediately."

There was a small popping noise and a whoosh as the fire presumably went out.  The swooshing noise of Snape's cloak was audible from the corridor as he walked angrily around the dungeon.

Malfoy walked off to the Great Hall looking solemnly at his feet the whole way.  Miraculously he ended up in front of the enormous doors, it was a wonder he made it there at all because he was hardly paying attention to which way he was going.

Upon entering the Hall, few things were out of the ordinary.  Two large oafs motioned from the Slytherin table for him to join them.  Crabbe and Goyle assumed he wanted to sit with them.  Instead, Draco walked to the edge of the Slytherin table and sat next to a cluster if first years who promptly edged closer together, making room for him.  He looked at them and gave them a weak smile.

Over one of the first year's heads, he saw the Gryffindor table.  He looked for the familiar bushy head and couldn't find it.  He pulled out a piece of parchment and began to sketch Snape's head.  It was fairly good; the blood was flying nicely as the bludger smashed into his face.  The first years gave him a look of fear and he gazed toward the doors to the hall and saw two people entering.  One was Hermione Granger, one was Professor McGonagall.  Granger looked over at Crabbe and Goyle, and then swept the Slytherin table over with a puzzled expression.  She hurriedly set her things down between Potter and Weasley at the Gryffindor table before walking around towards his.  He quickly stood up, grabbed his bag and quickly walked out the doors onto the familiar pathway framed with countless rosebushes.  

There was a bench by a statue of a reindeer and he sat on it before staring up at the sky.  The real sky, as well as enchanted, was dark and full of stars.  Draco imagined himself zooming through the sky on his broomstick when someone cleared their voice from the path.

"Huh-Hem," he snapped back into reality and saw who had spoken.

"What do you want, Granger?"

"Nothing more than to be far away from here, I assure you Malfoy," she said coldly.  "Professor McGonagall has informed me that you need a tutor.  I'm free on Friday afternoons and Saturdays, unless there's a Gryffindor Quidditch game, in which case I will go and cheer on Harry."

"So your boyfriend losing a quidditch game is more important to you than me passing potions?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact it is," she said before adding, "and Harry is not my boyfriend."

"Oh, that's right; you're with the Weasel," Draco finished knowingly.

"You know, I should go tell Professor this is a waste of time," she spun on her heel and began to walk toward the Great Hall.

"Wait, don't," he said weakly and unenthusiastically.  "Come back, Granger."

"I don't think this is worth it Malfoy.  Pansy Parkinson can tutor you; she's doing well in Potions."

"Ugh, don't remind me," he said with disgust.  "Besides, she's not a prefect, and you're getting the best marks, Malfoys don't settle for less than the best."

"Wow Malfoy, I never knew you cared."

"I don't, I merely said you're the best at knowing everything, so help me know something, anything," he began to sound frantic.  He grimaced.  "Please, Granger?  I have nothing else to do but drop potions."

"You have to drop it if you don't do better?"  She brought her hand to her mouth and looked extremely shocked, as if the idea was horrifying. 

"Yeah," he said darkly.  "And that ass-hole Snape's the reason.  He has no idea what's been going on, er, I mean he's being unfair."

"Well, I'm used to it," Granger said, sitting next to him.  "I don't know any other teacher who takes house points for right answers."

"I don't complain, today's the first time he's ever taken Slytherin points," Draco shrugged mildly.

"It pays to be a teachers pet," she replied, clearly agitated.  "You're Snape's golden boy, obviously."

"Well, you're practically McGonagall's daughter, so we're even there," he snapped back.

"At least I don't get away with everything imaginable!  McGonagall takes off for horseplay, Snape lets you do whatever you want in that class, and it's like your domain."

"At least I don't have to ease two imbeciles along to get them to pass," he began to flush.

"How dare you, Harry and Ron are great students!  They're smarter than you without even trying," with that, she stalked into the Hall and found her seat between Potter and Weasley.  They immediately engaged her in conversation.  He could read her lips, the words "tutor" and "Malfoy" came up.  Potter and Weasley smirked and went back to eating.  Eventually they were talking and smiling again.

Draco stared enviously at them.  They were actually friends.  Who did he have except his overgrown wrecking balls that followed him wherever he went only because their parents were "business associates?"  In the back of his mind, he wished he could have friends like that.  But friends with Potter, that just wouldn't work; he looked angrily down at his left forearm.  He grabbed his bag and quickly shuffled back to the dungeons and to his common room.  He found the door to his prefect's quarters, entered, heard the rush of air as his torched lit automatically, and flopped onto his bed.  He stared at the ceiling and something landed on his chest. 

He snapped up.  It was an owl, a very nice owl actually.  It was all white and fluffy and…Potter's owl!  What reason in hell did Potter have for writing to him?  The owl held out its leg, talons clutching a letter.  He tore open the seal on the letter and began to read tiny scrunched together writing.

Malfoy-

Meet me at the statue of the reindeer outside the Great Hall after lunch on Friday.  From there we will go to the Potions dungeon which is reserved four our session.  Bring your text, cauldron and necessary ingredients.  We will be brewing a difficult potion.

                                                                                    -Hermione Granger

That made sense, Granger still had to tutor him, bad attitude or not.  Friday after Lunch…he had something to do Friday after lunch. Quidditch practice!  He couldn't possibly miss Quidditch practice; after all, he was the captain, and seeker, and overall Slytherin quidditch icon.  He went through his bag and pulled out his quill, that of an eagle owl.  Potter's owl retreated to Draco's pillow, obviously recognizing the writing utensil as something else.  He wrote neatly in his perfect penmanship.

            Granger-

I hate to burst your bubble but Friday after lunch does not fit my schedule.  Although, if you want to fit it in, I get out after dinner at about nine so we can work then.  Send your answer by owl in time for breakfast tomorrow.

-Draco Lucius Malfoy

He took of his robes and slid into bed wearing nothing but his boxer shorts.  He placed his wand carefully on the nightstand, making sure he had access to it in the night.  Draco let himself drift off into sleep quietly and slept surprisingly sound.

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"Draco, wake up lover," a silky voice in his ear.  He kept his eyes close, but he knew.  It was her, the girl from his dream.  He pulled her face down, forcefully slamming her mouth onto his before plunging his tongue into her mouth.  They kissed for a few minutes before she pulled away and spoke blissfully.

"We have class Draco, Arithmancy."  His eyes shot open, not only was this not the girl from his dream, it was the worst person possible.  Pansy Parkinson grinned at him.  "That was nice; I was waiting for you to warm up to me." 

"You…You…You!!"

"Come on, we're going to be late!"  She faced him and smiled in her own grotesque way.  There was a glint of satisfaction in her eye. 

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	2. A Day of Reform

[A/N:  I apologize now for the previous state of this fic.  The format was all buggered up.]

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Chapter II

**A Day of Reform**

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He leapt out of his bed and threw on a pair of black pants that had lost their crease and were very wrinkled.  He put on a white shirt he pulled out from the bottom of his trunk.  On him, it was obvious that it had been in a ball beforehand.  He didn't care; Pansy Parkinson had just kissed him for fuck's sake!  Shuddering at the thought, he picked up the comfortable robes he had worn the day before and threw them on as he sprinted to the dungeon, wanting to make it absolutely clear to his professors that he was worth the title of Prefect.  

"Good Morning, Malfoy, take your seat," Professor Vector said softly.  Draco looked around; the only other person in the classroom was a Gryffindor prefect, Miss Almighty Moodblood herself.

"Punctual, aren't we Granger?" he sneered in her direction.

"As usual Malfoy," she said, her face still buried in a book.  She was ignoring him!  He briskly walked over to her and snatched the book out of her hands.

"Malfoy!" she looked angrily up at him, her pale cheeks reddening.

"I'm just having a looksie, don't get your panties in a twist!"  He cast a sharp glance up at Vector who was immersed in a stack of parchment reaching three feet off the desk.

"Prefects Who Gained Power…" he muttered thoughtfully.

"I _was_ reading Malfoy, maybe you should try it some time," she snatched the book back.  She once again looked down, completely ignoring him.  Infuriated, Draco snapped.

"Looking for a job at the Ministry or something of that sort?" he began matter of factly.  "My father holds a spot at the ministry as you well know.  Would've been a shoe in for Minister if that Muggle-lover Arthur Weasley hadn't been awarded that Order of Merlin for doing whatever he did…I could speak to him, you know…"

"What are you on about Malfoy?!" she demanded, he was pleased to see a panicked expression on her face.

"Well, I would tell him some things for you.  But you know how father is…  Too bad he'd probably just think you're a filthy Moodblood, you could've led a department with all of your 'achievements.'"

He looked down and corrected his stride once again.  If only he could change his malicious ways along with his walk.

'Well Draco old boy,' he thought to himself.  'So much for turning over a new leaf, you're still a self-centered little prick who throws around the words 'my father' and expects doors to open.  But what would making nice with Granger do?  Absolutely nothing!  But, why do I feel so fucking guilty for saying those things.  They weren't even up to my malevolent standards.'

"Mr. Malfoy," Vector began.  "Would you kindly take your seat?"

Draco looked around and noticed that in that brief amount of time, the small class had been filled.  He pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and his eagle owl quill and began to doodle, while absentmindedly taking down odd theorems and the occasional note.  He then caused a slight diversion to the rest of the class by smacking himself in the face.

Over the sniggers and smirks, he could see Granger looking smug.  He recovered himself, or so he thought, by whipping his head around, looking for the bug that was taunting him.

"Malfoy!" Vector snapped.  "Please refrain from swatting, as there are no bugs, and will be no bugs, inside the Hogwarts walls.  The castle is charmed from them.  If you see fit, you may go see Madam Pomfrey."

Draco grumbled, sliding down in his seat.  He had only been reminding himself that to take Snape's warning seriously, he was trying his best in his classes.  But then again, it wasn't his fault Arithmancy came so easily to him.

Glad that the class was over, he grabbed his things and made his way down the hall.

"Draco," a voice said from behind him.  He spun oh his heel, blonde hair flying gracefully over his right eye as he fixed a wide, gray-eyed gaze on the owner.

Hermione Granger's breath caught as he turned to face her.  All she could wonder was what he was thinking.  All he could wonder was what she was thinking.

"Granger," he said quietly.  "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Malfoy, I was going to ask you about our potions session on…Friday, is it?"

"Right in one, after my Quidditch practice, I can't allow Slytherin to lose to Gryffindor yet again, can I?"  He smiled warmly at her.

"I guess not," she said, smirking in his a way unique to him.  "But that's exactly how Harry's thinking, so that's going to put a damper on your glorious victory."

"We'll see, now won't we?"  Draco looked down at her, walking nearer.

"I guess we will," she said, noticing how tall he was.  "So, where should we do this?"

"What?" he smiled (the presence of which she was trying to get used to).  "Oh…Oh, our _tutoring_ meeting."

"Precisely, so, we'll meet in the potions Dungeon?"

"Seems logical, but lacks imagination…The Library?"

"God's no, I'd be too distracted.  The Prefect's common room," she suggested.

"Boys or Girls," he raised an eyebrow in her direction.

"Which do you prefer?" she asked, knowing the answer.

"Why…Girls of course," he grinned, as if it was common knowledge.  But then again, she knew he'd never been in there and would want to venture in.

"Of course," she turned and walked away.  Abruptly stopping and whipping around, she found him still watching her.  "What time will we meet?"

"Nine o'clock," he said promptly.  He turned and walked swiftly towards his next class.

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Meanwhile, Hermione Granger was pondering some pretty uncharacteristic thoughts.  Her mind was swimming and she was confused about much of what had happened that day.  Being the kind of person she was, she took advantage of her free time and headed to the library.

'What was Malfoy's deal back there?' she pulled out a book from the shelf nearest to her, not caring to read the title.  It was one of her many ambitions to read the entire library, so any random book would do.  She began to read the book, though one thousand words was a little light for her liking.

            _One of the more unexplored fields of magic, trained invisibility has been mastered by only three wizards to date.  The ability enables the possessor to become invisible at will…_

'How can McGonagall expect me to tutor him if I can't hold a solid opinion of him?'  And how could she read if she wasn't focused?

Earlier that morning, a scene had unfolded over Hermione's journal.  It seemed like a very muggle thing to keep, but she didn't know what she'd do without it.  Last night, her entry had been rather lengthy and personal, basically written as if nobody would ever read it.

_…Too bad my studies are so time consuming.  I had made a pledge to myself that this year would be different.  I would be different.  Perfection and above and beyond perfection are my life.  But if so, why does it feel like something's missing?  One of the things that bother me is my relationships.  I've been doing everything in my power to make Harry pay attention to me more.  Does he wish me to be frank?  Should I confess that when I'm around him, I feel…different?  We've been through so much together, is it worth it to go and jeopardize everything?  Maybe Rita Skeeter was right, Harry doesn't need this right now.  I can't believe I just wrote that..._

_She had casually charmed it, locking it by means of a complex spell.  It never crossed her mind that someone would be as rude as to break the charm and read it.  The next morning, she left the prefect's quarters to visit the Gryffindor tower.  After showing Lavender a quick spell to make her bag hold more, she began down the stairs to the common room.  On a table close to the fire, two pairs of eyes met hers as she reached the bottom of the flight.  They were huddled together over a book, lying open with pages glowing.  Only one book she knew had glowing pages, and they glowed because she had charmed them, to allow her to write in the dark.  The two guilty faces didn't look guilty for long before they stood up and confronted her._

_"I can't believe you!" his face was reddening by the second.  "You're sick!  You've had fantasies about all of my brothers…even Percy!  And I can't believe you never even…Never mind!  It's like I don't even know you anymore!" he grabbed his things and ran up to his dormitory._

_She turned and faced her remaining friend.  Not knowing what to say, she mouthed 'I'm sorry.'  Harry stood up and hugged her.  He then backed away, looking very uneasy._

_"I'm sorry too," his deep voice reassured her.  "Maybe some day, Mione, but not right now.  Voldemort's back, and there are Death Eaters swarming all over, We're taking our O.W.L.'s soon and…"_

_"And Cho Chang's single again, I know Harry," she said rather harshly before briskly walking back to the portrait hole, pausing only to see the hurt look on her best friend's face._

Slipping back into the present, Hermione gazed down at the book, invisibility would have to wait.  She took her wand, pointed it at the page and waited.  Seconds later, a piece of parchment fluttered out of her wand and landed on the book.  She pocketed it, not bothering to look at the due date, and walked to the Great Hall.  She looked towards the head of the Gryffindor table, seeing Ron and Harry talking absentmindedly.  She turned and walked out onto the pathway to find her secluded bench had already been occupied.

"How goes it Granger?  Long time no see," his gray eyes were fixed on her again.

"Sorry Malfoy, I'll leave you alone." With that, she turned to walk away.

"That's quite alright Granger, there's enough room here for you.  I don't bite…not yet." He winked at her, laughed at the absurdity of it, and explained his situation.  "I'm only writing a poem."

"Poetry, you?  It just doesn't fit your persona Malfoy."

"Just sit down and do your work, I'll do mine, no confrontation required." He looked down and began adding to his foot of parchment.  Hermione couldn't help but notice that his writing was extremely precise and elegant, and that the words 'hate' and 'how dare her' came up quite often

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	3. Thoughts

[A/N:  It's been a while, forgive me.  I lost the ambition for this story, as well as any ideas for furthering the plot.  I just picked it up again yesterday and decided to toy around with it.  I hope you enjoy.] 

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Chapter III 

**Thoughts**

He looked over at her; she had been reading his work.  He didn't mind.  When he had looked at her, she bent down and took out a book.  Once again, she buried her nose in Prefects Who Gained Power.  He couldn't resist.

"Which one of our amazing prefects are you reading about now?"

"Percival Weasley," she said monotonously.  "Youngest ever head of department for the Ministry of Magic.

"I remember him, tight-assed little goody goody," he put his quill back to his parchment and continued his poem.  He didn't catch Hermione's face turn red.  But, of course, how was he to know she had dated him for two months?

"On and on he wrote about Pansy.  Hate was the operative word in the entire thing.  This poem was long enough, and no longer resembled a poem.  It was more like one giant block of writing.  He flicked his wand at it; it was instantly encased in an envelope with a wax seal, bearing the Malfoy crest of a dragon and snake.

"You're not actually going to give it to her are you?" His head snapped up, he had completely forgotten that Granger was there.

"Of course," he said with a nonchalant air to his voice.  "She deserves it.  You have no clue what she…never mind."

"No, tell me," Granger's brown eyes were twinkling as she smirked.  Damn that smirk.  It did not belong on her face.

"I think not," he gathered his bag and poem.  "I'll see you Friday night, enjoy your book."

Se folded her arms and frowned at him.  He wasn't about to explain his gross "Pansy moment" with her.  He walked away and back into the Great Hall.  Over the tables he saw Crabbe and Goyle beckoning to him.  Draco simply pretended he didn't see them and left the hall for the library.

After taking a seat and brushing the thin blonde hair out of his face, he pulled out yet another piece of parchment.  He reached for his quill but came up with a muggle pencil instead.  _How primitive_, he thought, not knowing that the quill was more primitive still.  The writing began to flow out of him to the point where he couldn't focus on what he was writing.  His eyes closed and before he knew it, there was a block of some such sitting on the table before him.

'This is great,' he thought.  'No wonder muggles use these so much.'

He paused to see what he had written.  The page was covered almost and he muttered the first paragraph to himself quietly.

'Hermione Granger…bloody know it all.  Snape should've known better than to assign me to such a useless bint.  How am I supposed to focus on the tutoring when _she's _there?  Damn mudblood.  Maybe she's not that bad.  Actually, it probably won't be that bad after all.  Minus the hair, she'd be quite a shaggable piece.' 

Bollocks, how in Merlin's name could he have written _that?  He leaned over, trying desperately to cover the writing as if anyone was reading over his shoulder.  The pencil must be charmed to lie.  He took a closer look at it and read the inscription on the side.  Hmm…Ticonderoga, some bloody debauchery, he'd bet._

Nobody in his or her right mind would charm a pencil to make someone write that kind of nonsense.

'No! No! No!' Draco was fuming.  'They're not my thoughts, there must have been some mistake, that is not how I feel!'

To be completely honest…he was being completely honest.  He had never, not once had thoughts like that about Hermione Granger.  He put his wand in the air and muttered 'Tempus.'  Dark green numbers hovered over the table.  It was only nine o'clock.

*****

The next few days went by slowly for both Draco and Hermione.  Each had their own problems, but Draco's were more worrisome.  Upon returning to his dormitory, there was a white envelope, etched in black with the initials DTM on the front.  The penmanship was large and regal and Draco didn't doubt for a second who it was from.

_D.-___

_A Meeting is scheduled for next week.  This is not to be taken lightly.  I urge you to take your formal presentation seriously.  Professor Dumbledore will be informed of course, I've told him that your cousin Amaryllis is to be wed.  I trust he will hear no different from you._

_-L._

Great, just what every sixteen-year-old boy wants to hear.   A class trip has been planned.  He's off to meet with a diabolical madman, oh joyous day!

*****

Friday morning came as fast as it could around Hogwarts, and without much trepidation from both Hermione and Draco.  The only reason neither was anxious was that both had forgotten.

Hermione had made up with Ron after one argument in which tons of dirty laundry was thrown in their faces.  Hermione's ordeal with Crookshanks, Gilderoy Lockhart, Viktor Krum and her previously unknown fling with Ron's older brother Percy.  

Ron was painfully reminded of Fleur Delacour numerous times, and remembered the Padma Patil situation.  When Hermione had finished, he laughed; she hadn't much on him at all.

"I haven't read through your most private thoughts now have I?" Ron blanched (which was most certainly a new color for him).  He was temporarily speechless.

"I'm…sorry Hermione," he looked at the floor.

"I know Ron," she patted him on the shoulder.  "I have to go now, you great prat."

The Harry situation had actually been quite similar.  All on even footing, she decided it was enough effort on that front for the night.  When she had left the joined prefect's quarters after making up with him, she went back to her nook outside the Great hall and read about trained invisibility.

*****

Dinner finally arrived and she took her place between Ron and Harry at the Gryffindor table.  They were presently arguing over who would call off the tutoring sessions first, Hermione or Malfoy.

"Will you stop it?" she said, finding their humor dry.  "We're both mature enough to handle this like adults."

"I'll believe it when I see it!" Ron said, snorting.  "You, _maybe_, but Malfoy…He's never known maturity in his life."

"How would you know, Mr. Chudley Canon Pajamas?" she chuckled as all of the blood in her friend's body surged upward into his face.

"Oh come on Hermione," Harry interjected.  "Do you mean to tell me that all of those times cheating at quidditch, making fun of your family, my lack there of, Ron's father's job, mother's weight, financial situation, home, brothers-."

"Enough already Harry!" Ron's ears were turning red at the thought.

"Well, I just meant to say that if after that, you still think he's mature…I'd have to say you're not as smart as you seem."

"I got the highest O.W.L. scores of any witch or wizard in Europe in the past fifty years." She folded her arms indignantly.

"How about America?" Ron asked promptly.

She turned white and looked angrily at her folded hands on the table.  Her knuckles became white as she clenched and unclenched her fists.  She began mumbling every once and again something coherent slipped out of her mouth.

"God damned…too smart…own good…lousy Yankee…Perfect score…too high…20 O.W.L.'s my arse…she should-."

"Hermione, calm down," Ron was quite alarmed that he had hit a nerve that ran so deep.  "It's eight fifteen now, shouldn't you get ready for your little date with Malfoy."

"I had better go, Malfoy's smarter than the two of you and _he_ needs a tutor…"

"I was talking about your street smarts, Hermione.  That's the only kind of smart you lack." Harry picked up his goblet and drank deeply.

"Street smarts?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.  "I'm being told that I lack street smarts from someone who's only been on maybe four streets in his entire life."

Harry grumbled something before turning and talking to Fred and George about god knows what (presumably quidditch).  She walked out of the hall and across the school before a peculiar Idea crossed her mind.

I could go watch Malfoy finish playing quidditch and break the ice with him then and there.  She decided that this was her plan and she headed out to the quidditch pitch.  

Her first thought before walking out into view of the pitch (besides 'what am I doing here?') was that she knew why the Slytherins failed to beat Gryffindor so often.  They lacked team skills.

Malfoy was circling the pitch at full speed on his Nimbus 2001, completely alone in the air.  He clutched and released an illuminated snitch before chasing it again and again.  She took her eyes off of him and walked over to the stands, preparing to sit down.

With a jolt, she was caught around the middle and pulled gently onto the hard handle of a broomstick.  She looked back and the broom accelerated a blur of fluttery blond hair and light gray eyes grinned back at her before speaking.

"Like it Granger?" he yelled; though he was still barely audible.  "Flying is great, isn't it?  And flying with me is amazing."

She snorted but he hadn't heard her.  The flying wasn't amazing, exactly, but it was different with Malfoy.  She had flown with Harry before, but this was new.  She convinced herself that the surprise had probably played a major factor there.  They circled the pitch a few times before Malfoy landed the broom in front of the stands.

Malfoy began brushing off the sleeves of his robes.

"What are you doing," Hermione asked, trying not to giggle.

"Oh nothing," He sighed.  "I was just trying to get the Mudblood germs off of my clean robes."

"Whatever you say, Malfoy," she rolled her eyes.  Some egos could never be trounced.  Hermione took it upon herself to let him know of his absurdity.  "Doesn't it hurt your head?"

"Doesn't what hurt?" He narrowed his eyes before gasping.  "What, is my hair out of place?"

"No, its fine," she insisted.  _It's more than fine actually, he should fly more often._ She cursed herself for thinking such thoughts.  "Doesn't it hurt your head to house an ego that big?  Surely having such a high opinion of one's self is unhealthy."

"My head is fine, thank you very much.  Yours on the other hand…You clearly don't have much modesty either.  But don't worry, if there was anything bigger than my ego around, it would be cursed and killed."

"Indeed.  Well, if you're all finished here, I should think we'd ought to get on with our tutoring session."

"Very well," Malfoy pulled the robes up over his head and set them down on the stands.  "Just a minute."

Hermione, having been looking at her watch, turned to face him.  He reached both hands across one another and grabbed the lip of his green and silver team sweater.  Malfoy liftedit swiftly, catching the black T-shirt he wore under it and lifting that up as well.  She tried averting her eyes but found them glued.

His pale chest seemed even whiter in the moonlight.  Malfoy was dreadfully thin, but it suited him so.

Realizing from the sudden chill that he was rather exposed, he quickly pulled the shirt down, smoothing out the wrinkles.

"Enjoy that little show, Granger?" he quipped.

"Oh please, Malfoy," her eyes once again found themselves in that rolled back position they loved so much.  "As if I was paying any attention."

"Judging by the rose in your cheeks, you were."

Had she been blushing?

                                    *                                  *                                  *

"Now, add the porcupine quills."  Hermione coached.

"I know, I know," Malfoy insisted.  But somewhere deep in his mind, a voice piped up.

_Three porcupine quills bunched together, tied with a strand of your mother's hair…drop them in._

"No, no, no!" she slapped the quills out of his hands.  "You add six quills one at a time, five seconds apart from one another.  What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing…It's nothing."  His attempts to wave her off were futile.  Ignoring her stare, Malfoy dropped them in the simmering cauldron, one by one, counting to five all the while.

~~~~~~~~~~

[Be kind…please rewind.  Er, I mean review.  I love my readers :)]


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